


for the light before and after most indefinitely

by deerie



Series: may the sunrise bring hope [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death Fix, Conversations, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Forgiveness, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Nightmares, Post - Nogitsune, Protectiveness, Unexpected Visitors, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1339087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerie/pseuds/deerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has a home here. He has his run of the woods surrounding the house. The forest here is good; Beacon Hills was an illness. He takes correspondence classes through the closest college. He has Derek. </p><p>God, he has <i>Derek</i>. He has Derek in every which way Derek will let him.</p><p>Stiles thanks whoever’s doing a lousy job of watching out for him, because putting Derek in his life was a good move. Stiles would never have left Beacon Hills if not for Derek. He would have wasted away in that forsaken town until it spit out his bones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song "Beth/Rest" by Bon Iver. I won't say you _have_ to read the story that comes before this one, but it will probably help if you do. [Nikki](http://honeybearbee.tumblr.com) looked over this for me. 
> 
> This story is for [Zoë](http://grandpajojens.tumblr.com), who pretty much inspired this entire thing and gave me the idea for this fic. :*

*

 

Stiles knows, okay, he _knows_ what the people in this town think of him. He knows what type of looks they get whenever Derek drags him from their home and into town - for farmer’s markets, for greasy diner food, to see the lights at Christmas. 

The thing is, Stiles would much rather be known as a recluse than as the kid who went crazy in high school. He’d rather be known as the weirdo wandering in the woods than the kid who got himself possessed and killed a bunch of people. 

It may not have been his fault, but there are some stains you can’t wash off. Stiles knows, he’s tried. Despite this, he’s not unhappy.

Stiles hasn’t felt like this since he was sixteen and dumb with a newly bitten best friend. 

He has a home here. He has his run of the woods surrounding the house. The forest here is good; Beacon Hills was an illness. He takes correspondence classes through the closest college. He has Derek. 

God, he has _Derek_. He has Derek in every which way Derek will let him.

Stiles thanks whoever’s doing a lousy job of watching out for him, because putting Derek in his life was a good move. Stiles would never have left Beacon Hills if not for Derek. He would have wasted away in that forsaken town until it spit out his bones. 

So Stiles stands what whispers follow him when he makes the odd trip off their land. They’re running out of some things they need at the house, though, and it isn’t like Stiles can’t leave. He just chooses not to most of the time. 

Derek’s still at work, so he takes the Jeep. The old thing’s still running, miraculously. It even made the long trek across the country when they first moved here. 

It takes about twenty minutes to get from their property to the town proper. The sun shines bright in the sky and Stiles drives with the windows down because it’s warm. 

Beacon Hills is a city compared to the lazy sprawl of this place. There’s a town square with a courthouse in the middle. Main Street houses a grocery store and a tractor supply store. There are a couple of houses renovated into office space - one’s for the town’s singular lawyer and the other for a doctor. The vet’s office is on the other side of the square, and there’s nothing magical about this veterinarian. Stiles checked.

The post office sits on a corner of the square, so Stiles parks in one of the two hour parking spots. He doubts he’s going to be out that long, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. A stack of letters sit on the bench seat next to Stiles. He grabs them up and shuffles them into an orderly pile before jumping out of the Jeep. 

He buys stamps and then slides to the end of the counter before meticulously sticking a stamp to the corner of every envelope. He shoves the unused stamps into his back pocket and then pushes all the envelopes into the mailbox. 

Stiles looks around the post office once. The girl he bought the stamps from sits behind the counter, idly smacking her gum. He sees the old man whose wife sells Derek fresh produce at a discount because he cleans their gutters. 

David sees him too and waves and Stiles waves back politely. Derek would be distraught if Stiles lost them their direct line - not really, but Stiles likes to see Derek happy. 

Stiles has a tiny garden behind their house, but his crop never comes near the bushels of vegetables that Margaret sells them. Stiles tends tiny cherry tomatoes, ones that never quite turn red, yellow under his watch, and cucumbers he can fit in the palm of his hands. He sprouts garlic in the windowsill, green onions in tall vases of water and the ends of celery in shallow dishes. 

Having something little to care for is nice. 

Further back on their land - away from the house, as far back as you can get without leaving the property - they have rows of wolfsbane flowers, a line of rowan trees. That plot is a warning as much as it is a safety precaution. Stiles harvests the flowers, dries them, and sends them back to Deaton. He keeps a few strains in a box near the house, in case hunters ever come by, but they’ve been lucky so far - the hunters here go for deer when they’re in season, not werewolves. 

Stiles follows the sidewalk around the square and down the street to the grocery. He only needs a few things - cuts of meat they don’t have on hand, a bag of flour since there’s only dust in the container. He needs to get a pound of butter to last them until the next farmer’s market and a couple boxes of cereal, a gallon of milk.

An old woman blocks the path to the buggies, so he clears his throat politely. When she turns around, Stiles aims for a smile, but he’s not sure he’s achieved it when all he gets in return is the stink eye. Stiles isn’t sure of her name, but is sure he’s met her before. 

Whatever, he can’t win them all. Stiles is in and out of the grocery store in under thirty minutes. The bags aren’t that heavy, aside from the gallon of milk, but it still takes him ten minutes to walk back to his Jeep. He keeps stopping to look in shop windows.

He’s back on the road home soon enough. 

The Toyota’s in the driveway when he gets back. Derek’s standing on the porch with a mug of something in his hand. He probably heard the rumble of the Jeep start up the long drive way. 

Stiles smiles to himself, something small and private - happy. 

Derek abandons his mug on the railing of the porch and palms his cheek when Stiles fumbles out of the Jeep. “Hey,” he says as Stiles leans into the touch. 

“Hi,” Stiles says into the heel of Derek’s hand. 

“I got home and the Jeep wasn’t here. Was wondering where you went off to.”

Stiles hums under his breath and then his eyes pop open. “Oh! I forgot to leave you a note! That’s what I was forgetting.” 

He grins and leans forward to kiss Derek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you. Help me get the groceries in?”

“You went into town?” Derek asks, already heading for the back of the Jeep. 

“Yeah, I wanted to get those letters sent today and we needed a few things from the store.” Stiles’ cheeks darken when he realizes Derek looks proud of him. “Shut up, oh my God.”

Derek grins and he says, “I didn’t say anything.” 

Stiles looks to see if there are any bags left, but of course there aren’t. He shuts the Jeep and goes inside the house, following Derek into the kitchen. Derek sets the bags on the counter and starts pulling them out. 

Stiles puts what needs to be kept cold in the fridge, while Derek puts the dry goods in the pantry. 

“I got a call from Lydia earlier,” Derek says, once they’re done and standing in the center of the kitchen. 

“Oh?” Stiles asks, stepping into Derek’s space. “What did she want?”

Derek pulls him close, rocks them side to side. It’s not quite dancing, but they have a rhythm. “She wants to visit.”

Stiles doesn’t mean to do it, but he tenses in Derek’s hold. Derek runs a hand up and down the length of his back. Stiles fists his hands in Derek’s shirt on either side of his rib cage. He tucks his nose under Derek’s ear and steadies his breathing. 

Derek stays steady for him through his entire process. He lets Stiles compose himself, lets him think, lets him settle. 

“I can tell her no,” Derek says. 

Stiles leans his weight against Derek and takes a deep breath. “No, it’s cool.”

“You sure?”

Stiles nods. “Plus, the lack of any actual shopping centers will probably run her off quickly enough.” The joke falls flat. Stiles slumps against Derek, continues, “If she thinks it’s really a good idea, then I’m okay with it.”

Derek pulls back and looks Stiles in the eyes. “Okay,” he says. “But you let me know if you need space.”

“Yeah, of course.” Stiles steps back. “How was work?”

Derek walks from the open kitchen to the living room and sits down on the couch. He scrubs against the back of his head and then says, “Alright. The kids are ready for summer break and are getting a little rowdier.” 

Stiles swoons dramatically. “My boyfriend, the history teacher.”

He stumbles coming out of the swoon and laughs. Stiles throws himself onto the couch next to Derek, head landing in Derek’s lap. He grins up at Derek and Derek drops a hand down into his hair. 

“So,” Stiles says, arching into a whole body stretch, “I did the shopping. You’re making dinner, right?”

Derek laughs. “Yeah, sure, whatever you want.”

 

***

 

Every morning after Derek leaves for the high school a town over, Stiles walks in the woods. He takes the same path every time, bumps up against the same trees, stops in the same places. 

He takes this time to check on their plot of supernatural plants. 

Stiles hasn’t had to worry about watering the flowers in a while. It rains a lot this time of year and wolfsbane is a hardy crop, unsurprisingly. He pulls up any stray weeds and picks the dead buds off the plants. 

The rowan trees are a little different. They don’t need much from him, except belief. Deaton insists and since Deaton is the one who will turn these trees into mountain ash, Stiles presses his hands up against the trees and believes they’ll grow big and strong. 

Technically anyone human could do this, but he’s the only human for miles. Well - the only human who knows about the supernatural. Stiles, honestly, is just thankful that he has something from before that the nogitsune didn’t take from him. 

Magic doesn’t lie, and if magic thinks he’s still human, then Stiles can believe it too. 

He finishes out his walk around the perimeter of the property and goes inside to take a shower. He sheds his clothes in the laundry room and sets them on a wash cycle. It wouldn’t do to get stray wolfsbane particles around the house he shares with a werewolf. 

Stiles takes his time getting clean. He jerks off while he’s in there. He comes with his forehead against the shower wall and a choked off moan. 

When he’s done with his shower, he tugs on a worn pair of jeans and one of Derek’s white undershirts. They wear roughly the same size now. It’s nice. 

He eats a bowl of cereal on the back porch and switches the laundry over when it’s finished. An hour or so is dedicated to catching up on his coursework. 

This isn’t exactly how he ever imagined his life playing out, but he likes it. 

Midday finds him in his garden, driving stakes into the ground for his tomatoes and cucumbers to crawl up and grow. He drives the last stake into the ground and leans back on his heels. He looks up at the sky and rubs the back of his hand across his forehead. If the dirt on his hands and the sweat on his forehead mix to leave a streak across his face, that just means he’s worked hard. 

Stiles hears the rumble of a car come up the drive and he knows it’s not Derek because school doesn’t let out this early. He goes into the house to wash off his face and peer out the window. It’s been about a week since Derek said Lydia was dropping by, so it’s no surprise that it’s her car that comes down the long drive way. 

What is surprising, however, is that she doesn’t seem to be alone. 

Stiles dries his face with a towel and steels his resolve. He didn’t realize other people were coming. Stiles wishes Derek were here, but he isn’t. Stiles has to do the best he can on his own until Derek gets home. 

He walks out on the front porch by the time the car pulls to a stop behind the Jeep. Lydia gets out of the car first. Isaac spills out of the back seat and stretches with his arms above his head. The last person to get out of the car is Allison. She gets out of the car with a grace that suggests she hasn’t been stuck in a car for over thirty hours. 

Stiles inhales sharply. He doesn’t think he can do this. 

Lydia doesn’t give him much of a choice. She marches right up the steps of the porch and says, “Well, aren’t you going to hug me?”

Stiles huffs a laugh and tries to relax enough so that when he does hug her, she won’t feel how tense he really is.

When he pulls back, Lydia eyes him and says, “We’ll have to work on that.”

Allison hugs him next, tucks her cheek against his neck. “We missed you,” she says. 

Stiles squeezes her tight because time might have passed since the nogitsune, but they came so close to losing her. “I missed you too,” he whispers into her temple. 

Isaac offers, “I didn’t come to see you.”

A grin plays on the corners of his mouth. Stiles lets Allison go and scoffs at Isaac. “Derek won’t be home until later.”

Isaac scuffs the toe of his shoe in the dirt and says, “It is good to see you, though.”

Stiles looks at his hands and smiles to himself. When he looks up, all three are watching him with careful eyes. 

“I hope you guys realize we only have one guest room,” he says, in lieu of anything else. 

Lydia smiles sharply and says, “Allison and I can share.”

“Guess you get the couch, buddy,” Stiles says to Isaac. 

Isaac shrugs like it isn’t a big deal, “Have you all forgotten that Derek used to live in an abandoned train station? Because I haven’t. The couch is a huge step up.”

The girls want a tour of the house, so Stiles shows them around. “Dining room, kitchen,” he points out. He leads them into the living room.“Isaac, this is the couch you’ll be sleeping on. Remind me to get you some clean sheets.”

Through the living room, they enter a hallway that leads to the laundry room, a small bathroom, and the office. The office has sliding doors leading to the back porch. Stiles continues down to the end of the hall where the back door and stairs are. On the second level, Stiles shows Allison and Lydia the guest bedroom and gestures to another door that leads to the master bedroom. “Guest bathroom is down the hall.”

Lydia says, “This is a step up, Stilinski.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles says. “It’s home.”

He leads everyone downstairs and says, “Isaac, you’ll probably want to avoid the area on the very back left side of our property. I grow wolfsbane out there. Just stay within the area that Derek scent marked and you should be good.”

Isaac nods. “I’m going to go get the luggage.”

Lydia graces him with a smile. “Good idea.”

Isaac rolls his eyes at her and leaves the room.

“I didn’t realize you guys were going to get here this early,” Stiles says. “Um, make yourselves at home? I’ve got some stuff to finish in the garden.”

He hooks a thumb toward the garden and takes a step backward. Allison says, “I’m going to take a shower, I think.”

“Good, yeah, that’s - that’s good,” Stiles says. “Towels are in the closet next to the guest bathroom.”

Allison grabs her bag from Isaac when he comes back into the house and disappears down the hall and up the stairs on light feet. 

Isaac says, “You said Derek scent marked the safe spots?”

“Most of the forest is safe, except for that one spot. If you hit a spot that smells like me only, pick a different direction.”

Isaac nods and says, “I’m going to stretch my legs.”

Stiles and Lydia are left looking at each other. Stiles bites at his fingers and just stares at her. Lydia waits him out. 

“How can you look-” Stiles starts. He stops and frowns, and shakes his head a little bit. “Why did you come here?”

“We both needed time to heal,” Lydia says, “but Stiles, it’s been three years. It’s time to stop hiding and move on.”

Stiles frowns. “I have to look down at my hands every day and remember every person I killed. You don’t have to do that, Lydia. You don’t get to tell me how to cope.”

“But neither do you, Stiles! _You_ didn’t kill those people. The nogitsune killed people. Not you.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Maybe, but my body was the tool. The nogitsune couldn’t have killed those people without a body and the body it used was mine. I’m the person who has to live with that.”

Stiles looks at Lydia - really looks at her - and she stands tall. She says, “We’ve both had our bodies controlled by others. It’s time that we start making our own choices.”

“I have been making my own choices,” Stiles says in a tired voice. He waves an arm out behind him, gestures to the house, to his life here. 

“You ran,” she accuses. 

“I’m not going to be sorry about that, Lydia.” Stiles shakes his head at her. “I didn’t want to die in Beacon Hills.” 

Lydia looks angry, but all at once she deflates. “I don’t want to fight right now. Show me your garden,” she demands. 

“Okay.” Stiles rubs at the space between his eyebrows and says, “Yeah, I’ve got to finish tying the plants up anyway.”

Stiles leads her out, but doesn’t talk to her for the rest of the afternoon. She sits on the shaded steps of the porch and watches him tie delicate stalks to the rough wood of the stakes. 

Allison sits with Lydia for a while and then wanders closer to Stiles, asks him about his plants. He answers her questions and she doesn’t mention how tight his voice sounds. 

Isaac makes it out of the woods at some point and Stiles finishes his work in the garden. He looks at the three of them, who have come down from Beacon Hills, and he wants to yell at them - make them hurt as much as he does. 

Instead, he says, “There’s food in the fridge and we have cable. Derek will be back around five. Please don’t follow me,” and stumbles his way into the woods. 

He takes the least worn path. It isn’t a trip he makes too often - hasn’t had to, lately. 

It’s kind of funny, he thinks, the way the past can hold so much power.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! So I meant to have this chapter out on Wednesday, but it just wasn't ready then. But it's ready now! I hope you enjoy it.

Derek finds him standing by the oak tree near the back of their property. It’s not the only oak tree in the area, but it’s the only oak whose leaves turn a deep red in the fall. 

Stiles sits at the base of the tree. He scrubs a hand across his eyes when Derek gets closer.

“You haven’t come this way in a while,” Derek says. He offers Stiles a hand and Stiles takes it. He dusts dirt off his jeans as he stands up. 

Stiles shuffles closer and rests his cheek against Derek’s shoulder. 

“Lydia told me what happened.”

“What time is time is it?” Stiles asks.

“Almost six. Do you want to come back to the house?” 

Stiles sighs and says, “It’s weird having them here. I didn’t realize Allison and Isaac were coming.”

“Allison said she kind of strong-armed Lydia into letting them come with her. She said next time she’ll call first.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles says. “I just wasn’t ready.”

“Are you ready now?” Derek asks.

“Not really, but I’m kind of hungry.”

“Ms. Kestler gave me a pie,” Derek says. “It’s peach and raspberry. Home made.”

“You realize she’s hitting on you, don’t you?” Stiles steps back.“She’s trying to seduce you with baked goods.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that my boyfriend enjoyed the pie,” Derek deadpans.

“Ooh,” Stiles hums. “Don’t do that, you can’t bring home the bacon, and pie, if you don’t have a job.”

Derek slips his hand into Stiles’ and leads him back toward the house. “Are you saying I should lead her on to get free pie?”

Stiles grins. He likes the easy banter they do. “I’m just saying that I really like pie, Derek. That’s all.”

They break the woodline after about ten minutes of walking. Once they hit the open space behind their house, Derek crouches and scoops Stiles up and over his shoulder. 

“Put me down, Derek Hale! You brute!” Stiles tries to shout in between laughing. Derek palms his ass and carries him the whole way. He sets Stiles down carefully by the back door and Stiles retaliates by smacking him in the shoulder.

Derek leans forward and kisses Stiles. Stiles presses his hands against Derek’s cheeks. When they pull back, Stiles says, “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Derek puts his hands around Stiles wrists, anchoring him, and says seriously, “I am always going to come for you.”

“I know.” Stiles closes his eyes and leans into Derek for a moment. Then he ruins the moment by saying, “Several times in several positions.”

Derek herds Stiles forward until his back hits the wall. He cradles the back of Stiles’ head in a big hand. Stiles grins at him. Derek kisses him with intent this time, sloppy, and then pulls back to say, “We have guests in our home.”

Stiles groans and says, “I know, ugh, why did we invite them again? We’re not going to get to make out on the couch tonight.”

“We weren’t going to make out on the couch tonight anyway. I’ve got tests to grade.”

Stiles laughs as Derek pulls him into the house. 

Isaac greets them with, “Next time, wait to do your gross flirting thing until the people with super-hearing are out of range.”

Stiles sticks his tongue out at him. He looks up at Derek. “What are you making for dinner?”

“It’s your night to make dinner,” Derek says. 

Allison and Lydia sit on the couch. The TV is on with the sound muted. The smile drops from Stiles’ face a little bit. 

Lydia stands and asks, “Can I talk to you for a minute, Stiles?”

Stiles doesn’t particularly care to, but he turns to Derek and says, “If you’ll start dinner, I finish it.”

Derek nods and touches the tips of his fingers to Stiles’ bare elbow. 

Stiles leads Lydia back to the office and waits for her to speak. 

It takes her a moment to gather her thoughts. Soon, she says, “I’m sorry, I was out of line. You’re right, I can’t tell you how to cope.”

Stiles says, “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” Lydia says. “Derek explained some things to me that I didn’t take into account. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“Seriously, Lydia, it’s okay.”

“Okay,” Lydia repeats. She says carefully, “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Stiles says. 

“Did you have to move so far away?” Lydia asks.

Stiles thinks about all the states between here and California. He thinks of all the towns they could have picked instead of this one. The nearest werewolf pack is hours away. The only magic in this town is the magic that the land provides naturally. He thinks about how many hunters they’ve seen in the two years they’ve lived here - zero - and how many supernatural creatures they’ve run into - three, none of which were violent. Stiles thinks about how happy he’s been here with Derek. He thinks about how happy Derek’s been. 

“Yeah, Lydia,” Stiles says. “I really did.”

She nods and squares her shoulders. “I expect emails from now on. And, and phone calls,” her voice wavers. “You keep in touch now. You don’t go silent for a year, Stiles. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, gently. “I do. I promise.”

“Good,” Lydia says. “You were going to ask me something, before. And you stopped. What did you want to ask me?”

Stiles doesn’t even have to think about it. He knows right away what she’s talking about. He doesn’t want to ask it, but Lydia deserves to know. He told her in high school he would stop hiding things from her and he’s been doing a shitty job of that in the past couple of years. 

Stiles crosses his arms, digs his fingers into his shirt. He looks somewhere over her shoulder and asks, “How can you look at me? After what happened with - with the nogitsune in Eichen House, how can you look at me? And don’t say it wasn’t me, okay, because it was something wearing my face and that’s close enough.”

Lydia surprises him by pressing her fingers onto his jaw. She exerts just enough pressure to get him to look at her and says, “After the nogitsune split from you - he wore your face, but he wasn’t _you_. He didn’t have your mannerisms. He didn’t talk like you do. He wore your face badly.”

“But it was still my face,” Stiles says.

“Sure,” Lydia says. “But Stiles, I went to therapy. Not just for this - for the stuff with Peter and and the stuff with Jackson.”

“And the stuff with me.”

Lydia nods. “And to paraphrase something someone usually pretty smart said to me, ‘you don’t get to tell me how to heal.’”

Stiles huffs out a choked laugh. “You’re right.”

“I know,” Lydia says with a smirk, “I always am.”

She leans in for a hug and Stiles gives her a good one this time. She says, “That’s more like it. Now, we should get back to the others.” 

When they get back to the kitchen, Lydia slips into a seat next to Allison at the kitchen table.

Isaac chops vegetables at the counter but he must feel Stiles' curious eyes on him, because he turns and hisses, "What? Shut up, like this is in any way surprising."

"What are you making?" Stiles asks. 

He slinks up behind Isaac to peek a look, but Isaac pushes him away before he can even get close. Freakin' werewolf senses, Stiles thinks. 

Isaac helpfully says, "Food."

"Thank you, that was super informative, man."

Isaac rolls his eyes.

Derek sits across the table from Allison. He snags Stiles' hand and pulls Stiles down to sit on his lap. 

Stiles goes willingly enough. He lands with an 'oof,' and Derek squints at him. He wraps an arm around Stiles' middle anyway.

“You know, Isaac,” Stiles says companionably, “if you’re any good at cooking, we might have to keep you.”

Derek nods over Stiles’ shoulder. “It’s true, Stiles can only cook like three things and one of those things is sandwiches.”

Allison side eyes them. “You don’t cook sandwiches,” she says primly. “You assemble them.”

Stiles jabs an elbow into Derek’s sternum. “You love my sandwiches, asshole. You’d have to eat bad cafeteria food if I didn’t make you lunches.”

Lydia says, “I have to admit it, this isn’t what I expected when I found out you two were cohabitating.”

The pot sizzles as Isaac adds the chopped veggies to it. He says, “Was anyone actually ever surprised that Stiles and Derek ended up together? I mean, for real surprised, not just ‘pretending to be surprised.’”

Allison smirks and shakes her head. “Scott, Kira, and I had a pool going for a while during senior year.”

“Who won?” Stiles asks. He should have gotten in on that, probably.

“Kira,” Allison says with a laugh. “Scott kept saying, ‘That doesn’t even make sense, I’ve known Stiles the longest!’ She won, like, seventy-five bucks and took me to the arcade. It was awesome.”

Lydia hums, “She’s weirdly good at those claw machines.”

“Yeah, that’s not luck,” Isaac scoffs. “She’s literally a supernatural creature who can control electricity.”

Stiles watches as Isaac cubes one of the cuts of beef he bought today and thinks about all he missed moving so far from the pack. He says, “You guys should come out more often. Except maybe next time take a plane. Don’t drive, that was a terrible idea. Lydia, you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

Everyone goes quiet and Stiles looks up, confused. 

Derek presses a smile against Stiles’ shoulder. Lydia looks down at her hands but a smile plays across her face. Allison flat out grins at Stiles and Isaac waves the hand holding a knife in the air absently. “You know, if you built a cabin somewhere on your land, more of us could come at once. You’ve got the space for it.”

Derek says, “It would be nice to have the pack all in the same place occasionally.”

The others agree and Stiles feels something stir inside he thought the nogitsune stole from him. He feels his pack. “Yeah,” Stiles says, “yeah, that’s a good idea.” 

Derek squeezes him tighter like he knows and Stiles wonders if he should be expecting a call from Scott soon. 

“Okay,” Isaac says after he finishes pouring broth into the pot. “Soup in an hour, my work here is done.”

Stiles pushes back into the curve of Derek’s chest. There’s a heaviness in his chest.

They sit and talk until the soup is done - catching up on things both sides have missed. 

Scott and Derek have kept up pretty good communication over the years - everyone pretty much knows all the big things. It’s the little things that Stiles has missed. Those are things Stiles wants to hear about. 

“I’m going to tell Cora that you laughed so hard at her that you almost cried,” Stiles cackles when Derek finishes telling the story of when Cora came to visit. 

Isaac keeps snickering into his hands, tears shining in his eyes, and shakes his head. When he can finally talk, he says, “Please don’t, she’ll maim me.”

He coughs to clear his throat and then sniffs the air. “Soup’s ready.”

“Great,” Derek says. “I’m half-starved.”

They serve themselves at the stove and then sit back around the table. 

Stiles takes a bite of soup and then says, “Wow, yeah, you’re definitely staying, Isaac. I’m not sending you back to California. Scott will just have to deal.”

Isaac steals a smile off to the side. 

Stiles thinks the idea must pop into their heads at the same time, because when he whips around to point at Derek, Derek’s eyes are equally wide. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” Derek says, slowly.

Stiles finishes the thought with, “And Saturday means farmers’ market! Let’s take them to the farmers’ market!”

He swings around to face the others and grins. 

Allison says, “Please don’t finish each other’s sentences every again. It’s really freaky that you two are on the same wavelength.” 

“Please,” Stiles says, raising his eyebrows at her. “Need I remind you of ‘bestiality’?”

She blushes and shakes her head. “We promised not to talk about that.”

Stiles throws back his head and laughs. “No,” he says. “No, you and Scott said you were never talking about it again. I made no such promises.”

Lydia looks between them and then turns to Derek. “Do you know what they’re talking about?”

He shakes his head, “No, and I don’t think I particularly want to know.”

“Good choice,” Isaac says. “I wish I didn’t know.”

Stiles looks around at his friends sitting at his table. A content smile rests on his face. So sure, there’s a heavy weight on his heart, but it’s a good weight. He thinks he can live with it.

 

***

 

Stiles wakes up early. 

It’s practically a cardinal sin to wake up before Derek, let alone before Derek on a Saturday morning. 

Derek stayed up late the previous night, grading papers, and Stiles is inclined to let him sleep. Stiles wriggles out of Derek’s hold, pressing his fingers against Derek’s brow when it furrows and soothing him back to sleep with gentle sweeps between his eyes. 

Derek settles back into sleep and Stiles smiles. 

The floor is cool under his bare toes, especially compared to the warmth under the blankets but Stiles is already awake. If he tried to go back to bed now, he’d only end up waking Derek. 

He puts on his running clothes and goes downstairs, mindful of all the extra people sleeping in his house. 

The bathroom light downstairs is on when he passes by and his walk by the couch confirms that Isaac’s up too. 

Stiles fishes in the cabinet for coffee filters and sets up the coffee maker to brew a fresh pot of coffee. 

By the time he finishes, Isaac is in the kitchen. “You going for a run?” 

Stiles only clutches at his heart a little bit. “Bells, dude,” he says. “But yeah. You want to come?”

Isaac nods.

Stiles looks at the clock and only winces a little bit when he sees it says five o’clock. “Derek won’t be up for at least another hour, so we can take one of the longer routes.”

The route he has in mind sort of follows the line of the property. It cuts a couple of corners and crosses through the middle of their land at one point. It really doesn’t take that long to run, but there are a few spots that Stiles likes to stop at along the trail. 

By the time they get back from their run, Stiles has shown Isaac all of his favorite spots, like the natural clearing toward the middle of the property and the tiny creek that runs through the land. 

Allison grips a cup of coffee and smiles at them as they tumble back into the house. She sits on the couch with her legs tucked under her body. The television is on the weather channel with the sound muted. Stiles can hear the shower running upstairs, but he can’t tell which one. When he points up toward the ceiling, Allison says, “Lydia.” 

“I’m going to go get a shower and then I’ll make breakfast,” Stiles says.

“I thought you couldn’t cook,” Isaac says.

Allison laughs, “This must be one of the two things he can.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and flails a hand in their direction. “Excuse me, you are going to be eating your words in about twenty minutes.”

He takes the stairs quickly to his bedroom. He sees that Derek has curled into Stiles’ side of the bed and he grins. 

Stiles goes to the bathroom and turns the shower on to warm up. He grabs a towel from under the sink and hooks it over the shower door. He steps back into the bedroom to strip and put his clothes in the hamper. 

He steals another look at Derek. Derek’s eyes are open, watching him. Stiles grins and slinks up the bed to say good morning. “Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Why’d you let me sleep in so late?” Derek slurs against Stiles’ pillow.

“Nothing about six in the morning is late,” Stiles scoffs. 

Derek reaches out a hand and brushes Stiles’ shoulder blade. He runs his hand down his back and grabs Stiles’ bare ass. 

Stiles grins down at him before smacking an off-center kiss to Derek’s mouth. “I’m going to take a shower,” he says unnecessarily. 

Derek’s thumb sweeps back and forth in tiny arcs against Stiles’ lower back. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, “surprisingly so.”

“You look good,” Derek says.

“I always look good,” Stiles teases.

Derek ruins the playful mood Stiles is going for by sincerely agreeing, “You do.”

A faint blush colors Stiles cheeks. Derek pushes up on one elbow and slides his mouth against Stiles’. Stiles leans toward Derek when he pulls back.

“Love you,” Derek says.

Stiles smiles a private smile, something only Derek gets to see. “Love you back,” he says. “Now I’ve really got to take a shower. I’d invite you to join me, but I promised breakfast.”

Derek stretches his whole body until he’s laying back down on the bed. “Leave the shower on when you’re done.”

Stiles slides off the bed and heads for the shower. He aims for a quick shower because he did promise food. At some point, Derek comes into the bathroom to take a piss. Stiles can see the fuzzy outline of his back through the opaque shower door. 

They switch places easily enough. Derek presses up against Stiles as they slip past each other and Stiles glares at him playfully. 

Derek’s chuckle follows him out the door. 

Stiles puts on real clothes since they’ll be going into town later. He slips on a shirt that he’s only fifty-percent sure is his and jeans that definitely belong to him. He runs his towel over his head to dry his hair before heading back downstairs. 

Lydia stands next to the coffee pot and Isaac sits at the table. They talk quietly between themselves. Lydia wears a pale yellow sundress and flats. She looks up when Stiles comes in the room. “I heard you promised breakfast.”

“I did,” Stiles says. “Where’s Allison?”

“She’s getting dressed,” Isaac says. “What are you making for breakfast?”

“Cereal,” Stiles says. He watches their faces drop a little bit before snickering. “Just kidding. I’ve got the stuff for french toast.”

He pulls day old bread out of the pantry, eggs and milk from the fridge, and cinnamon from the spice rack. 

The strawberries live in their plastic containers next to the sink because they’re easier to get to that way. Derek likes to grab handfuls of strawberries each time he walks through the kitchen and Stiles likes to indulge him.

Stiles rinses the entire batch under cool water and pulls off their leafy green tops. 

He slices them on the wooden chopping block, gathering the slices in handfuls to put in a bowl. The strawberries stain his fingers red so he washes them quickly. Stiles sprinkles sugar on the bright red berries and sets them aside. 

Stiles gets in the french toast zone and soon enough a plate full of slices of french toast sits next to the stove. He points Allison to the cabinet that houses the plates and the drawer with silverware and she sets the table. 

Derek comes down, fresh out of the shower, as Stiles moves the plate of french toast to the table. Derek grabs they syrup out of the fridge in case anyone likes it on theirs, while Stiles gets the powdered sugar because it’s Derek’s favorite. 

Lydia grabs the bowl of strawberries and her coffee and meets them at the table. She slips in between Allison and Isaac. 

Isaac already has three slices on his plate and Stiles is glad he remembered to make more than he and Derek usually eat. Lydia takes two and hands Isaac the syrup. She puts a scoopful of strawberries on top. Allison takes her with strawberries and syrup. 

Derek takes his with powdered sugar and strawberries. Stiles eats his with _everything_. 

Derek eyes Stiles’ monstrosity critically like he does every time Stiles constructs it, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s learned not to. Isaac, however, has not learned that lesson. “Jesus, Stiles,” he says incredulously. “You’re going to get -”

Before he can say anything further, Stiles adopts a bland look and opens his mouth to sticks out his tongue, chewed up bits of food visible for all to see. 

“Ugh,” Lydia groans. “That’s disgusting.”

Allison wrinkles her nose and Isaac closes his eyes. “Sorry I brought it up, never do that again.”

“No promises,” Stiles says, after he swallows his food. “You guys still up for the farmers’ market?”

Everyone nods. 

Derek says, “It opens at eight, so if we want to get there about that time, we ought to leave about seven-thirty.”

Stiles glances at the clock and says, “It’s doable.” 

Allison speaks for all three of them when she says, “Then let’s do it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, friends! Finals, you know how they are. Hope you enjoy this last chapter. :)
> 
> Warnings at the bottom, my loves.

Derek pulls the Toyota into a free space a couple streets down from the square. Benefits of having a werewolf boyfriend: you don’t have to fight people for close parking because he can carry all the fresh produce with his werewolf strength. 

Stiles doesn’t always go with Derek to the farmers’ market, but he thinks he might change his mind. The sun is bright and Derek’s hand fits well in his. 

“This is charming,” Lydia says and she’s sincere. A light smile graces her face. 

Allison’s eyes widen imperceptibly as she takes in everything. “This is a lot different from the one in Beacon Hills.”

Derek snorts. Stiles elbows him in the side. Allison laughs. She loops her arm around Lydia’s and tugs her in a random direction. “We’ll see you guys in a bit. I want to explore.”

Stiles grins as they go. Derek pulls his hand out of Stiles and presses a kiss to his hairline. “I’m going to go by Margaret’s stall. Take Isaac and go find the best looking dessert.”

“Gotcha,” Stiles says.

“And bread,” Derek reminds as he walks in the opposite direction. 

Stiles smiles as he goes and Isaac coughs out, “Still totally here.”

“Come on, man,” Stiles says. “Let’s go find some baked goods.”

They end up stopping at nearly every stall, because Isaac wants to see everything. Stiles doesn’t mind it so much. It’s nice to be able to share something with the people he cares about.

They eventually make it to one of the stalls boasting loaves of homemade bread. Stiles taps his fingers against the tops of a couple loaves, testing for the perfect spring. Isaac trails behind him and Stiles can totally see him discreetly taking in big inhales of air. 

“Any smell particularly good?” Stiles asks, only half cheeky. Isaac points to a couple that Stiles had been eyeing. Stiles picks out a couple bags they both agree on and then sidles up to the woman with the cash box. He should probably recognize her; he doesn’t. 

“Seven,” she says, and Stiles fumbles the correct bills out of his wallet. She takes them from him, eyes wary, and thanks him. 

Stiles bobs his head in a nod and spins out of the stall with only minimal flailing. He slips the bread into one the canvas totes he’s been carrying. 

Isaac pushes past him and leads him to a stall selling fresh apples and too hot caramel. already slipping bills into the man’s hand in exchange for a tray of sliced apples and caramel. The girl from the post office leans forward to press baby wipes into Isaac’s hand. “They’re messy,” she says with a wink, and then a scowl after for her father.

“Congrats,” Stiles says, “you’re still a heartthrob for teenagers everywhere.”

Isaac rolls his eyes and zeroes in on an empty bench. Stiles flops down next to him. 

“You want one?” Isaac asks, but Stiles shakes his head. 

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes while Isaac eats his apples. 

Eventually, Stiles breaks the silence. “I’ve been out in town more in the past couple of weeks than I have in the past year, probably.”

Isaac turns toward him slightly to show he’s listening, but he doesn’t say anything.

“It’s good that you guys came down. I missed you guys.”

“Scott talks about you all the time,” Isaac says around his last bite. “He’s always telling us what Derek’s told him. A week or two ago, he was like, ‘Stiles went to the post office today!’ He was really proud of you. We could all hear it in his voice.”

Stiles grimaces and clenches his hands. “It’s kind of pathetic when you say it like that.”

Isaac forcefully shakes his head as he throws away his trash. “Stiles, no. Look, if you want to commune in nature and shit, that’s cool. Nobody’s gonna think less of you. Scott just likes to hear when you’re doing well and he likes to brag about it. He’s your best friend, dude.”

Stiles’ lip wobbles and he fiercely tamps the feeling down, says, “Don’t be nice to me, Isaac, you’re freaking me out.”

Isaac huffs a laugh and says, “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Stiles changes the subject quickly, rambling about school, but Stiles soon notices that Isaac is only half paying attention to him. He watches a frown cross Isaac’s face. 

Stiles shoots him increasingly concerned looks until he finally breaks and asks, “Dude, what’s wrong?”

Isaac looks a little guilty about being caught, but he says, “I can hear people talking about you.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says slowly. “That’s what people in small towns do.”

Isaac’s frown deepens and he says, “That doesn’t make it right, Stiles. Doesn’t it bother you?”

Stiles shakes his head and says, “No, not really.”

And Stiles - he gets it. He gets why it makes Isaac uncomfortable. Hell, if the situation were reversed, Stiles would be pissed on Isaac’s behalf. But being the weirdo who never leaves his house and wanders in the woods is so much better than being the kid who a did a stint in Eichen House, who went missing over and over, who worried his dad and his friends, who let a monster into his body, and whose body did terrible things. 

He doesn’t know how to explain it to Isaac. Instead, he says firmly, “It doesn’t matter, because those people don’t matter to me.”

“And we do?” Isaac says, quick to cut to the bone. 

“You do.” Stiles levers himself up off the bench with a hand to Isaac’s shoulder, and then offers his hand to Isaac, even though Isaac doesn’t need the help. “Pack, remember?”

“Yeah,” Isaac says, and it feels like something snaps back into place. “Pack.”

“We still gotta find a dessert,” Stiles says. 

Isaac nods and they pick a different direction. If Isaac watches everyone a little more closely as a go - well, Stiles isn’t going to say anything.

They circle the market. Stiles ends up buying a caramel cake and an blackberry cobbler. They walk until they run into the girls, their arms full of flowers and peaches. Stiles hands Allison a canvas bag and she lets the peaches tumble inside, one after the other. 

Isaac splits one peach into four pieces and the sweet juice runs down their wrists as they eat them in the glow of the afternoon.

Derek finds them later, arms sticky and mouths stained, and presses his mouth against the side of Stiles’ wrist, chases the taste he finds there.

 

***

 

Stiles wakes up - he screams because he is seventeen and he screams because Derek’s viscera wraps around his hands, because red blood coats his arms up to his elbows.

He looks around and the bodies of his friends, his family, line the basement of Eichen House. He can see Scott with his neck twisted unnaturally, eyes plucked out - he can see Lydia, clutching her throat, mouth open in a scream - he can see his dad, oh God, his _dad_ \- he can see Allison, the Oni’s blade still skewered through her stomach - Isaac, Melissa, Chris, Deaton, Cora, Kira, Malia --

He looks back down, watches as Derek’s body sluggishly tries to heal itself around Stiles’ hands, looks up at Derek’s face, watches a trickle of blood slide out of Derek’s mouth as his jaw moves up and down, trying to form words. 

Stiles rolls over and empties the contents of his stomach over the side of the bed, choking around bile and the scream trying to bubble its way out of his throat. 

He feels hands on him, hears someone’s voice, hears the clatter of feet on the wooden floor. 

He chokes and screams and pushes the hands away and screams again. 

He wakes up in his childhood bed, his father’s arms a constricting anchor around his chest.

He wakes up on the Nemeton and he is playing a game he doesn’t know the rules to -

He wakes up, he wakes up, he wakes up -

Stiles wakes up in their bed and reaches out in supplication. Derek offers his hands and Stiles presses them to his face and doesn’t bother counting his fingers. 

He breathes in the warm summer night air and tightens his hands around Derek’s wrists, feels the damp sheets against his bare legs. He can’t hear anything over rushing blood in his veins, the pounding of his heart. 

Stiles looks up and there are people in the doorway, bright eyes and gaping maws and he -

There are monsters everywhere, he thinks. There are monsters in the woods, in his house, in his _body_.

 

***

 

Stiles pads down the stairs. He goes quietly down the hallway, catches whispers from the kitchen.

“Is it always like this?” That’s Lydia, he thinks. That’s Lydia’s voice when it isn’t choked around a scream. “Is it always this bad?”

Derek answers, “No, he’s been getting better. We’ve had less nightmares in the past six months.”

And Isaac, “He didn’t even know who we were.”

Stiles looks down at his hands, but his fingers blur together. He catches his reflection in the dark television screen. 

He thinks he looks like a ghost. He feels like a ghost sometimes. There’s something between his fingers, something thick, something warm -

“Stiles!” 

Allison sees him first. She reaches for him but Stiles flinches back into the wall. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, years ago and his hands covered in blood, and his body slashed across, and his Oni, driving a blade, so sharp, into her stomach. Allison who bled and bled and told Scott she loved him. 

Her lips draw in, but she doesn’t say anything. Stiles moves toward Derek, pulls his own hands against his body and butts his nose against Derek’s shoulder and lets Derek pull him in. 

“You’re awake,” Derek says, and Stiles doesn’t say anything in return. He pressed his hands, stained, against his sternum. He can feel the blood seeping into his shirt, wonders how Derek can’t feel the same.

Stiles looks over Derek’s shoulder, through the window over the sink, and into the gray dawn and morning fog. 

He sees something in the distance, the pinprick dots of light, flashing. _‘Wake up,’_ he thinks, _‘Stiles, wake up. Wake up -’_

In the quiet forest, a fox runs through the brush. He snaps his jaws and hollow bones break under his sharp teeth. 

A firefly spirals upward, ever upward.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a nightmare that starts with him realizing he's elbow deep in Derek's stomach and then details the different ways his friends were killed - a snapped neck, strangulation, and the Oni's blade in Allison's stomach. He wakes up, but he's never really sure that he's actually awake.

**Author's Note:**

> [*](http://deerie.tumblr.com)


End file.
